


What Dreams are Made Of

by SilverRowan_Ivy630951



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America Steve Rogers, Dream Sex, Getting Together, Living Together, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Semi-Public Sex, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Top Steve Rogers, Wet Dream, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29173560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRowan_Ivy630951/pseuds/SilverRowan_Ivy630951
Summary: It took barely a second for Bucky to realize where he was. He was alone in his bedroom with the door shut. There was no one moving about the apartment because Bucky was laying there, one touch away from coming in his pants like some randy fucking teenager, and Steve was sound asleep in his room across the hall. Like Bucky should be. Bucky should be asleep. He should be asleep andnotdreaming of his best friend of nearly a hundred years.What the fuck?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 162





	What Dreams are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you see any errors.

Bucky gasped as Steve smiled down at him. He was lying in bed with Steve braced on one hand, leaning over him. His other hand had just wrapped around Bucky’s achingly hard cock.

It felt _so good_.

Leaning down in what amounted to a one-armed pushup—which shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, Steve whispered something dirty into Bucky’s ear that lit him right up. Then he took his mouth in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongues and gasps and moans.

And, all the while, Steve’s hand on his cock kept up a steady rhythm.

Another hand landed on Bucky’s body, this time pinching and flicking his nipple.

In an insanely short amount of time, Bucky was on the verge of coming. He shouldn’t have been, not so quick, but he was. He felt his balls tighten and his stomach clench.

And he woke up gasping.

It took barely a second for him to realize where he was. He was alone in his bedroom with the door shut. There was no one moving about the apartment because Bucky was laying there, one touch away from coming in his pants like some randy fucking teenager, and Steve was sound asleep in his room across the hall. Like Bucky should be. Bucky should be asleep. He should be asleep and _not_ dreaming of his best friend of nearly a hundred years.

What the fuck?

*****

Bucky was on his knees in the shower. Water rained down his back from the showerhead and he had his mouth full of the most beautiful cock he’d ever seen. Not that he’d seen many, but still. This was _Steve’s_ cock. It was gorgeous and hard as fucking vibranium. Because of _Bucky_.

Pulling off, making sure to keep up the suction until every last bit was out of his mouth, Bucky reached up and gently massaged Steve’s balls. He traced the underside of the shaft with the tip of his tongue before using the whole of it to sweep from the base to the tip.

Steve’s moaning was loud over the sound of the shower and it was getting Bucky so fucking hot. It was tempting to reach down and touch himself. Then, Steve threaded his fingers into Bucky’s hair, letting Bucky keep control his movements but holding on tight. All thought flew out the window. It made Bucky’s cock jump when Steve tugged on the roots hard enough to sting.

Bucky’s eyes watered even as he looked up and met Steve’s lidded eyes.

Fuck but he was beautiful.

He sank back down on Steve’s cock, taking as much of it in as he could. What he couldn’t get he used his left hand on. With his right, he ran his fingers over Steve’s perineum again and again. Then he moved just a little higher and traced Steve’s hole.

With a cry, Steve closed his eyes and came down Bucky’s throat, thrusting a little as his fist tightened in Bucky’s hair. Seeing it, seeing Steve fall apart because of _him_ , feeling the pull at his roots, had Bucky right on the edge of coming himself.

With a gasp, he woke up.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking _fuck_!

He was hard enough to pound nails into vibranium. Shivers skidded up and down his body as the cool air of his bedroom brought goosebumps out across his heated skin.

Goddammit. One touch and he’d be gone. Because of Steve. Who was asleep across the hall. Because it was the middle of the fucking night.

Fuck.

*****

Bucky was cooking dinner in the kitchen. It was a rare night when there was nothing pressing. No one was calling or texting, no one needed saving, no one needed either of them for debrief about robots or aliens or whatever else might’ve happened. And he was taking full advantage.

He rarely seemed to have the time and energy to cook. If he had one, he didn’t have the other. But tonight he did and he was going all out with it.

Between two supersoldiers, they ate a lot. None of the food he’d made really went together, but he didn’t care. He made many of their favorites. There was a pan of meatloaf, some chicken thing that Bucky always forgot the name of but knew how to make by heart, salad, bacon strips, corn on the cob, cabbage, steamed broccoli, and more that they’d never been able to have while growing up.

But now they had the money and, tonight, Bucky had the time and energy. Dinner was going to be glorious.

The front door opened and closed, Steve’s footsteps sounding as he took off his jacket and hung it in the hall closet.

“What smells so good?” He walked the few steps to the kitchen and leaned easily against the doorjamb. There was a smile on his stupid, punk face.

“Everything, Steve,” Bucky sassed. He hadn’t felt like sassing in a long time but, along with the time and energy, he seemed to have that tonight, too. “Everything smells good. Because I made all of our favorites.”

The oven’s timer dinged, then, so Bucky set aside the salad to bend to pull out the meatloaf. He’d just put it on the stove and closed the oven door when Steve stepped up behind him and pressed his very hard cock against Bucky’s ass. He shifted and twitched his hips while he wound his arms around Bucky’s middle.

“Food smells good,” Steve murmured into the hinge of his jaw. “You smell better.”

Bucky’s knees went a little weak, both at the words and the feel of Steve’s hard cock rubbing back and forth against him.

Bucky’s mind filled with images of them both naked, him bent over the counter with his legs spread, while Steve’s dick pressed and rubbed against his hole again and again. His body reacted.

Before he knew it, Steve’s hand had snuck under his apron and was feeling the edges of his growing arousal. The lips that had been nearly pressed to his jaw moved down to his neck and started sucking a bruise.

Bucky had to fight back a whimper as his hips thrust forward of their own accord. “Steve.”

Steve barely paused in what he was doing to say, “I know, dear. I know what you need.” Then he went right back to sucking. His lips moved up to lick and bite at his ear while his hand somehow found its way into Bucky’s pants.

Steve’s fist wrapped around his aching cock and slowly pumped. And his thumb, those amazing fingers, they somehow knew magic. Very quickly, they had Bucky pressing back and writhing against Steve, grinding his ass against that mouth-wateringly hard cock.

“You close, honey?” Steve murmured devilishly in his ear.

On a quiet whine, Bucky woke up. He was hard and leaking and about ready to combust.

Rolling onto his side and burying his face in his pillow, Bucky wanted to both cry and scream in frustration. If he was going to dream about his best friend every fucking night, the least his brain could do was finish the dreams out and let him get off.

*****

When Bucky got to the living room for the movie marathon he and Steve had planned, he was surprised to discover the rest of the Avengers there. They were all over, even on the floor.

Glancing up from his spot on the recliner, Steve vaulted to his feet and quickly made his way to Bucky, standing in the doorway where the hall met their living room. Grabbing him by the wrist, Steve dragged him into the kitchen.

“I am _so_ sorry,” he said. “It just kind of…happened.”

Steve looked so quietly worried that Bucky didn’t have the heart to make him send them away. This was supposed to be their night to hang together, just the two of them. Like old times. But apparently it had become Avengers Movie Night.

Bucky sighed. “How, exactly, did ‘just happened’ happen?”

Steve’s shoulders pulled in on themselves as he hunched. It was a habit that Bucky recognized from long ago when Steve kind of wanted the floor to swallow him up.

“Um. I was asking Bruce about movie suggestions we might like but that wouldn’t trigger anything. For tonight. There was music playing on the lab’s speakers and people around talking so I didn’t hear when the door opened. Tony came in and heard us. Then it just kind of…” He gestured to the living room, “snowballed.”

“Are you losers almost done making popcorn or what?” Clint called out from the floor in front of the TV.

“We don’t have any popcorn!” Steve shouted back before looking a bit helplessly at Bucky.

“Top right cabinet, farthest from the stove,” came Natasha’s response. “Bring me a bowl of the salted caramel.”

“Ooh,” Sam chimed in. “Is there any cheese flavored popcorn? That’s the best!”

Sam, Clint, and Natasha started arguing the merits of different flavors of popcorn while Bucky went to check the cabinet. Sure enough, where there had been dishes that morning, there was now eight big metal Christmas tins of various kinds of popcorn. Forget that it was nowhere near Christmas.

A part of his mind absently wondered what she did with everything that was in the cabinet before. It must be somewhere.

With a shake of his head to dismiss the thought, Bucky started hauling out tins. “Forget about it, Stevie. Might as well sit and watch a movie or three with the rabble. Get some bowls out, would you? They can load up on their own damn popcorn.

It wasn’t long before Steve set the bowls down on top of the coffee table and sat back down in his spot in the recliner farthest from the TV and everyone else.

After depositing the popcorn tins down—each strategically carried so he could manage all of them in one trip—he looked around. The couch was packed full with Tony, Pepper, Bruce, Sam, and Natasha squished onto it. It only worked because Tony and Pep were practically sitting on top of each other. Clint was laying belly-down on the floor with a throw blanket and pillow under him. He was feet from the television and _had_ to be getting a crick in his neck. With Steve in the only other seat besides the floor, Bucky sighed. He went back to his room and grabbed a warm blanket then plopped down onto Steve’s lap and covered up.

“Um… What…?” He looked so confused it was almost funny.

“I’m not sitting on the floor, Steven,” Bucky told him flatly. “And I’m not sitting on one of _them_.” He pointed to the couch where everyone was now watching him and Steve. “I’m sure as hell not letting anyone sit on _me_. So suck it up, buttercup. I lost my spot because of you. Therefore, you are now my spot.”

Nat smirked while Sam, Tony, and Clint all snickered. Bruce and Pepper at least tried to cover it but even they looked amused. It was a good thing Thor wasn’t there. He’d probably offer Bucky _his_ lap. And, as comfy as he looked, he and Bucky just weren’t that close.

Speaking of…

“Where’s Thor?”

It was Tony who answered. “He’s off doing something with ‘his Lady Jane and her loyal companion Lady Darcy.’” Tony’s voice shifted to imitate Thor’s booming voice when he said those words so Bucky assumed that was near to a direct quote from the god. He shrugged, letting it go.

The movie started then and, honestly, Bucky couldn’t have said what it was about. Sitting there in Steve’s lap, leaning against his chest and hearing him breathe, feeling his breath ghost past his neck, it kept Bucky pretty damned distracted.

He spent the entire first movie keeping his breathing and heartbeat steady and trying not to focus on the hot, damp breath kissing his neck. He spent the entire first _and_ second movies trying to keep all his blood from draining south. And, once he failed at that, he spent the third movie doing his best to not to shift restlessly in his spot. He wasn’t successful at that either.

Thirty minutes into the third movie, Steve clamped both hands to either side of his hips, tightly holding him in place under the blanket. “ _Sit still, Buck_ ,” he hissed. His voice was only loud enough for Bucky to hear, and only because of his serum-enhanced hearing, so there was no way anyone else could’ve overheard.

His tone and how close he had to be to whisper it sent shivers down Bucky’s spine.

“I can’t,” he whispered back. Fuck but this was hard. _He_ was hard. He’d been hard for the past however long. What the fuck were they even watching? Lord of the Rings or some other long-ass movies? He’d been hard for the past _two movies_. He’d been hard for what felt like hours. Bucky shifted again, even with the iron grip on his hips.

Steve dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise. That only made things worse. Or maybe it made things better. Whichever it was, it made Bucky squirm even more.

“Fuck.” Steve’s curse was just at the edge of Bucky’s hearing as Steve bent his head and pressed it to the back of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky didn’t even have time to wonder why Steve was cursing because, in the next second, he hauled Bucky back the scant few inches until they were practically molded together. Then he shifted and his cock pressed firmly against Bucky’s ass.

So focused on himself, on his own situation, Bucky hadn’t paid any attention to Steve’s possible matching one. It was more than obvious now. The bulge in his pants was large and rock fucking hard.

Bucky had to hold back a moan.

How was this even fair? Bucky was hard. Steve was equally hard. But _they weren’t alone_. They were in a room full of Avengers, two of whom were _world-class spies_.

But…

But Bucky was the Winter Soldier. He’d trained one of those spies. Bucky was stealthy enough that, if he wanted, he could…

They were sitting in a dark room, the only light being from the flickering television. Focused on the movie, no one was paying them attention. And the movie itself was fucking loud. Someone had turned the volume up way too high. On top of that, Steve and Bucky were covered with a thick blanket. It would almost be child’s play if they wanted to do something about their mutual problems.

Suppressing a smirk, Bucky shifted on Steve’s lap. It was deliberate this time. He had a mission. And if he was successful, they both would get what they wanted. Of course, Bucky would get more—or maybe less—than what he wanted. He’d wanted to fuck with Steve for a long time now. All his dreams pretty well proved that. So, Steve would get what he wanted by getting off and Bucky would get off and get what he wanted because it was with _Steve_.

Rocking his hips and grinding down on Steve’s now _very_ prominent erection. He felt the ramped-up heat from Steve’s body, even through their clothes. Steve’s breathing sped up, even as he kept it quiet. Bucky shifted and squirmed and twitched and ground down. He gripped his hands around the outsides of Steve’s thighs to gain more control over his movements, trusting Steve to keep the blanket from falling and revealing them to the others.

Fuck but it felt so good. If he moved just right, his balls rubbed against Steve’s cock. It shot sparks up his spine and had heat pooling in his belly. The breath rushing past his neck was fast, now, matching the movement of Steve’s heaving chest. He must be getting close.

Bucky kept it up, changing directions and motions and speeds, so he didn’t become too predictable or repetitive.

Their hearts were beating so fast, now, that the one brain cell that was unoccupied with what he was doing was surprised that they didn’t beat out of their chests.

Steve suddenly bent his head and bit Bucky’s shirt-covered shoulder, muffling any sound he could have made while he came. He shuddered and his hips jerked against Bucky’s in aborted thrusts. It seriously had to be one of the hottest things Bucky had ever experienced in his life.

He stopped moving as he waited Steve out. No sense in hurting him by rubbing against a too-sensitive cock.

Finally, Steve settled and got his breath back. His body was lax and he all but plastered himself against Bucky’s back.

Honestly, that was enough for Bucky. He felt pretty damn good for getting Steve off like he had. He could ignore the problem of his own hard cock. It wasn’t like he’d never ignored an erection; he did so most nights, now, it seemed. So this was enough. He would pay attention to what was left of whatever movie they were watching and it would be enough.

He didn’t count on Steve—happy, relaxed Steve—reaching around and cupping him through his pants. It took everything in him not to let out a surprised yelp or loud moan. And when Steve slipped into his pants and started moving his hand?

Oh sweet, loving, benevolent goddess of horny fucks.

Leaning back against Steve’s solid chest, Bucky just let it happen. He kept his eyes open as much as he could—which wasn’t much. But it was enough to know that no one had noticed anything. Everyone was still engrossed in the movie.

Steve sped up his movements and Bucky’s hips jerked of their own accord. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. It all felt so fucking good. Especially when Steve slid his other hand under Bucky’s shirt and started surreptitiously playing with his nipples and pecs.

Bucky was just seconds away from coming.

And then he woke up.

He groaned long and loud, pressing his hands against his face. “Fuuuuck… Why?” he asked the silent room. “Why can’t I just fucking stay asleep? Just once.”

He thought about rolling over and grinding one out against his sheets. It wasn’t like it would take more than a few thrusts. He was that close. But, before he could decide if that was worth it, if he’d still be able to look Steve in the eye come morning, a knock sounded on his door.

“Buck?” Steve called through it. “You okay?”

Bucky wanted to whimper then. He really did. Why was this his life? “I’m fine. Just woke up from a dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No!”

He hadn’t meant to shout but the very idea horrified him. There was no way he was going to talk out a sex dream about Steve…with Steve.

“Well,” Steve sounded unsure now and it only served to make Bucky feel like shit. “I’m right here if you change your mind.”

Bucky listened to his footsteps retreat and his door click closed.

The only good thing about all this was that talking to Steve and Bucky’s horror at his suggestion, his guilt over his response, had pretty well killed his arousal. He closed his eyes, covered them with his arm, and did his best to fall into what he hoped would be a dreamless sleep.

*****

Bucky knew it was a dream this time. He knew it even though he was still dreaming. There was no buildup, no communication beforehand, no anything. There was just Bucky lying naked in Steve’s bed while an equally naked Steve walked over with a smirking grin on his face. He had a bottle of lube in one hand and a condom packet in the other.

Climbing onto the bed to kneel between Bucky’s legs, dream-Steve uncapped the bottle. Their eyes met and he smiled. It was fond, loving. It filled Bucky’s chest with heat and butterfly wings.

Then dream-Steve’s eyes glinted and he pushed Bucky’s legs back. Suddenly his lubed fingers were pressing and rubbing against Bucky’s asshole. Just like those butterflies, though, the touch was feather-light.

There was no one around now, not like in the last dream, so Bucky didn’t bother to hold back his moans. His noises made dream-Steve’s eyes dilate and his breathing pick up. He didn’t waste any more time, pressing a wet finger in up to the second knuckle. It was big. It felt deliciously filling for being just a single finger. It must be the middle one. After a few seconds of pushing it in and out, Steve sank in the rest of the way.

Bucky moaned again.

Dream-Steve slowly, steadily stretched his hole, adding fingers when there was room or when Bucky begged for it. His other hand gently stroked wherever he could reach. He touched Bucky’s thigh, his calf, his hip, his stomach, his chest. He didn’t touch his cock, though, and it was driving Bucky insane.

“I’m ready,” Bucky whined. “Please. Please, I need you.”

“Not yet, baby. Soon,” he added before Bucky could complain. “Just a little more. You can take a little more.” He added a fourth finger, pumped it in and out, in and out. After a few minutes, he twisted his hand and pressed.

Bucky lit up like the Fourth of fucking July. He howled.

Before he could come down from the feeling, dream-Steve was pushing into him, his large cock somehow already covered with the condom. He waited all of five seconds for Bucky to adjust before he started up a punishing rhythm that had Bucky jolting and jerking and moaning his head off.

It was unreal how full he felt. There was no way he could feel like this in real life. This was the stuff dreams were made of.

He laughed out loud at that thought but dream-Steve didn’t even pause. Not that Bucky expected him to. This wasn’t real. But it sure as fuck was fun. Maybe he’d even be able to stay asleep long enough to come. A guy could hope.

Dream-Steve pulled out and flipped him over, putting him on his knees but pressing his torso against the bed. And fuck, fuck, fucking fuck! It felt _so_ good. Bucky no longer cared that his cock hadn’t been touched even once. Who needed that when he had _this_ magnificence?

Dream-Steve thrust into him hard and fast then switched to slow and tender. It brought tears to Bucky’s eyes but he pushed them away. This was what he wanted. He wouldn’t ruin it by crying.

Eventually, Steve flipped him back over. Bucky had wanted to see Steve’s face while he was getting fucked so dream-Steve had done it without a word.

Bucky reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered. Now was as good a time to say it. It wasn’t like he would get to say it while he was awake.

Moments after those words, after their tender kiss, dream-Steve sat back up and started pounding Bucky’s ass supersoldier-hard. Bucky was immediately back up to moans and groans and whimpers. And, eventually, he began begging.

He desperately wanted to come.

*****

Steve woke up to the sound of Bucky whimpering and begging. It was quiet, but Steve still heard.

Steve had grown progressively more worried these past weeks. It seemed like nearly every night for the past month, Bucky woke up from nightmares. At first he woke up almost as soon as Steve did. But then it began to take a little longer. Steve would make it to sitting up in bed before the noises stopped. Then he would be about to open his door. One time he made it to the hall before Bucky woke himself up. But, the other night, he’d actually knocked. He’d needed to make sure Bucky was okay.

In the light of day, Bucky never admitted that he had trouble sleeping. He never mentioned it, never wanted to talk about it. Any time Steve brought it up, Bucky shied away, unable to meet Steve’s eye. And he always found something to do in another room or outside the apartment after Steve asked.

It was worrying.

He paused, listening. He’d give it a few minutes to see if he woke up on his own like the other times. Steve wasn’t going to police Bucky. That wasn’t why they lived together. He would offer his help, his support. He would be there if Bucky ever wanted to talk. But Steve wasn’t going to be the warden to Bucky’s prisoner. Bucky was his best friend, not his charge.

Steve waited five minutes—the longest he could keep himself still—before he got up. He paused again at his door, listening. Still asleep. Still making those noises. It broke Steve’s heart.

He was out in the hall, about to knock, when a strangled groan sounded.

Steve didn’t even think. He just turned the knob to Bucky’s room and went in. Bucky was twisting and thrashing about in bed. His blankets were all tangled up around his legs and his head swung back and forth. It was alarming to say the least.

Quickly making it to the bed, Steve stood at the edge. He didn’t want to scare Bucky but he wasn’t about to let him keep hurting.

“Bucky,” he called. He didn’t touch. Not yet, at least. He tried again. “Bucky. Wake up.”

Bucky just kept writhing around.

This wasn’t right. What the fuck was he dreaming about?

Not knowing what else to do, Steve braced a knee on the bed, leaned forward, and put one hand on his chest, the other on his shoulder. He tensed, ready in case his friend lashed out in his sleep. “Bucky!”

Bucky jerked under his touch and, to Steve’s complete and utter surprise, started coming with a strangled moan. His hips jerked, his back bowed, and his head was thrown back in ecstasy.

Steve started to remove his hands like he’d been burned, but Bucky’s shot out and clasped around his wrists. They held tight.

Steve was going to hell. He was certain of that, now. There was nothing else for it. A one-way ticket straight to hell, punched: Steven Grant Rogers. Because he was hard. Extremely hard. _Ridiculously_ hard. As in: no-more-blood-in-his-brain, do-something-really-stupid hard. He’d just accidentally watched his best friend, the dearest person in the world to him, orgasm and all Steve wanted to do now was fuck him senseless.

“Bucky.”

Fucking— Straight to hell in a hand basket. His voice sounded so wrecked there was no way his friend wouldn’t notice.

Bucky slitted his eyes open and just stared. Then they grew hard.

Steve had an instant to think that he’d just destroyed their friendship, that Bucky would throw him out, pack up and leave, and never lay eyes on Steve again. But before that horrible thought could go any further, before Steve’s brain could plunge him into a hole of devastation so deep he wouldn’t be able to get out of it without help, Bucky reached up, wrapped a hand around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed the daylights out of him.

The surprises just kept coming. This was never something he had expected. Hoped for, once upon a time, but then he’d realized that Bucky only had eyes for the multitude of dames he could take out on town. He’d pushed his feelings aside as a pipe dream.

Bucky started to back off, to pull away with a frown, and Steve realized that he hadn’t been responding to the kiss that he wanted more than anything right that second. Before his friend got too far, Steve surged forward and captured his mouth.

There was no comfort there. It wasn’t a slow burn. No lead in or lead up. It went straight from nothing to a voracious wildfire in an instant.

Steve was soon climbing onto the bed and straddling Bucky’s hips. He didn’t even care about the wet patch that had soaked through Bucky’s sweatpants and he didn’t care that it probably wouldn’t be long before they soaked through Steve’s. All he cared about in that second was devouring Bucky and letting Bucky devour him.

He moved his mouth to Bucky’s jaw, nibbling from the hinge up by his ear down to the dimple in his chin.

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned. “Please tell me I’m awake. Please tell me this isn’t another dream.”

Steve filed that away to think about later when all his brain cells weren’t being starved of blood like they were currently. Something in him told him it was important. Filed, he set it aside. An answer was just as important. “You’re awake. We’re both awake. And, if we’re not, this is one hell of a shared dream.”

Steve shifted to suck bruises down Bucky’s neck, hoping that they’d still be there in the morning for him to see and admire. Bucky’s moan zinged right up his spine and then shot straight to his dick. Steve ground down against Bucky, feeling his spent cock starting to perk up again.

He hit just the right spot in his grinding and they both groaned.

“Fuck me,” Bucky gasped out. “Please. Fuck me.”

And with those words, doubt began to stir. Would Bucky really ask Steve to do that? Would he really want that? Buck had always had an eye for dames. He’d always flirted with the ladies, never with men. And he’d certainly never flirted with Steve.

He drew back, unsure. “Tell me you’re awake. Tell me this isn’t because you had a dream about someone and you just want a body to fuck. Who is it you want? Will anyone do?”

Please, he begged the universe. For the sake of his heart, he really fucking hoped that wasn’t it.

Bucky took a breath and focused. He met Steve's eyes with his own lust-blown ones. “I want you, Steven Grant Rogers. It’s taken about a hundred years for me to say it, but I want you: Punk and Captain Asshole alike. My rock, my savior, my lighthouse in the middle of a storm. My best friend and my truest love. I’ve always wanted you. I just wouldn’t say it so my brain decided to get me so fucking horny and frustrated that I had no choice.”

Steve was crying by then. “Always?”

Bucky cupped his face in both of his hands and placed the gentlest kiss to his forehead and then his lips. “Always.” Then he flipped them, putting Steve on the bottom with Bucky grinding his hard dick into his ass. “Now are you going to fuck me, Rogers, or do I have to keep on dreaming?”

Wiping at his face to clear his tears, Steve smiled. “Hand me your lube, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> So...that happened. ;) 
> 
> Shout at me and let me know what you think.


End file.
